All Grown Up
by Bluestarisawesome
Summary: Little Forrest isn't so little anymore. Ten years have passed since Jenny died. (T for safety.)


The bright yellow school bus stops in front of the long driveway leading up to the house where I grew up. Where little Forrest is getting to be all grown up, and where Jenny died in her sleep almost ten years ago now. I sat there on the tree stump all day long because I promised him I would be right here when he got back like I did from the very beginning. The doors swing open and little Forrest climbs off the bus with his back pack in his hand. He doesn't look very happy. The bus pulls away down the road to drop off a kid.

"Hey there little Forrest. How was your day?" I ask, extending my arms for a hug. He walks right past me pretending he doesn't even know me.

"Forrest?" I call out to him. He starts to run to the house, and I sprint after him. I spent months at a time running, but my age is catching up to me today. He seems to notice and slow down a little bit.

"Son, will you tell me what's bothering you?" I try again. He and I walk into the house together and sit down at the kitchen table.

"Dad, I'm fifteen years old. I don't want- I mean, you don't have to wait for me at the bus anymore," He sulks. I don't know what to say.

"Little Forrest, you are my son, and I just want to be sure you get off the bus okay," I say, not knowing what else to say. Maybe I did something wrong.

"Well, dad, no offense or anything but if you keep on waiting for me all day long at the bus people are gonna make fun of me."

That hurts, but I know he's right.

"Because I'm stupid?" I ask him.

"Well, no dad. Not because- well," He stutters.

"I understand son. I wouldn't want to do anything to embarrass you." I leave the table first, and as I walk up the creaky stairs, I hear him offer to make dinner.

"That would be great. I know you don't like my food," I respond. I reach the top of the stairs and find my bedroom. I close the door behind me, and sit at my desk that little Forrest built for me all by himself one Saturday. I open the drawer and find a piece of blank paper and a pen that the nice lady at the bank let me have.

_Dear Jenny, _

_It's Forrest. I'm writing you to tell you that little Forrest is doing fine, but I embarrassed him. I forgot how much of a big boy he is and that he doesn't need me to sit and wait for him at the bus anymore. He is a lot different from that little boy you left with me. I really miss you Jenny. _

_Love, Forrest. _

I fold the letter into an envelope, and decide to give it to Jenny before little Forrest finishes dinner. I walk downstairs and out the door. Little Forrest didn't even know I was leaving I was so quiet. I walk the path I've walked since I was little. To our tree. I don't stay long, just long enough to leave the letter for Jenny and to realize that I should put more flowers on here grave sometime this week.

Dinner is ready by the time I make it back. I don't even bother to announce myself because the door swings open and little Forrest looks at me. He doesn't say anything, and just walks over to the dinner table and sets the plate of fried chicken down. He grabs a piece, bows his head, and then take a bite. He still doesn't look happy but I think it's for a different reason now.

"Something else bothering you, little Forrest?" I try to get his attention.

"Yeah. But I think it's the same thing bothering you, dad."

"What would that be, son?" I sit down next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He shrugs away.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier about you embarrassing me. I didn't really mean it."

"Yes you did mean it," I correct him.

"Okay well I'm still sorry. I was just mad at the kids at school. They weren't making fun of me; they were making fun of you. I punched one of them, so you gotta come up to the school and talk to my teachers tomorrow afternoon," he says. I am relieved.

"Alright. I'll be there tomorrow afternoon then."

"Do you forgive me?" he asks.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't forgive you if I wasn't mad at you to start with," I explain.

**A/N: Okay. That was my first Forrest Gump fanfiction. I really tried hard on this, even though it might not be great. I really think it's easier to write in a man's perspective with an IQ of 75. Nothing complicated, ad almost childlike. Almost. I realize Forrest isn't necessarily smart, but if he watched everyone he ever loved die, and is trying to raise a son alone, he must be something. Strong, maybe. But strong seems too weak to describe him. **


End file.
